Blame It All On Fate!
by DMYN
Summary: Izaya is the bocchan of a rich and influential family who managed to force his previous bodyguards into resignation. Just who will be his mother's next pick, and will this new person be able to tolerate the spoiled 22 year old?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I only own this fic |D

**A/N: **I'm digging my own grave, aren't I? As if two multi-chapter fics aren't enough ;w; I just _had _to take up this prompt from the Kink Meme again. Why? Because I love Durarara, and Kuroshitsuji, and yes, Hana Yori Dango OTL

**Warning! This is an AU story. Characters might be OOC.**

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**Blame It All On Fate!**

**CHAPTER 1  
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_Where are you? _

He waited and waited, the others were already leaving.

The sounds of laughter and chatting were dying down.

He was now left alone, still waiting.

_Shizu-chan…?_ _Didn't you promise?_

_

* * *

_

Music blared in the background as people moved their bodies to the beat. Neon lights flashed everywhere in the darkness of the nightclub, providing just the right amount of light to ensure that the clubbers would not fall over one another.

A slender figure dressed in a plain navy v-necked shirt smirked at the joke that the girl beside him had just tried to tell. It was pretty lame, but she was beautiful and that was enough for him to remain draping a arm around her petite waist. Makeup or not, having such a beauty by his side was good for the playboy image that he had worked to build over his 22 years of living.

She wasn't the only one that was trying to win over his attention though. A group of young ladies in their twenties and even older were gathered around him. Giggling and blushing at every comment he made.

"Iza-kun~ Would you be coming here again tomorrow?"

"Yes yes! Would you? We'll miss you so much after tonight!"

Orihara Izaya laughed and ran a free hand through his raven hair. It was the same thing over and over every time he visited the nightclub. These girls were in love with his killer looks and ridiculously fat wallet – he knew it perfectly well. Being the only heir of one of Japan's top financial companies (Dorasu) sure brought along an abundance of special privileges one could only dream of.

"I'm afraid not, my pretty ladies. I have a date." He put a finger to his lips as if he were discussing a secret.

"EH! Iza-kun has a girlfriend?" One of them wailed.

"Of course I do~ She's my fiancée." It was mostly true, except for the date part. He only came to the nightclub when he felt like it. This was one of those very rare times which he did.

He could almost hear the sounds of their little crumbling hearts as they absorbed this.

Before they could start bombarding him with objections and insults to his girlfriend, he released his hold on the girl's waist and excused himself politely, "Ah, I'm going to get another drink now. Please excuse me for a minute, ladies." He gave his empty glass a small shake for emphasis.

They reluctantly parted to allow him to pass, which he did so with the same smirk plastered onto his face. A few regulars of the nightclub shunned away when he passed them, not wanting to be involved with him at all. They knew who he was and what sort of twisted character he possessed. Some even stared and started whispering in hush tones.

"Pathetic little humans." He chuckled to himself, watching their reactions from the corner of his eye.

He was only a few feet away from the bar when something tall and big slammed hard into him, sending him falling hard on his side with a short cry of pain when he landed heavily on his wrist.

The towering figure turned and Izaya, clutching his throbbing wrist to his chest, found himself staring up into soft hazel yellow eyes which looked just as surprised as he was.

"I'm sorry." The tall man said, extending a hand out in a gesture of helping Izaya up. "I didn't see where I was going."

Izaya narrowed his eyes at the man and got up with support from his uninjured hand swiftly, pointedly brushing aside the proffered hand with a slap.

"Are you blind or something? You sprained my wrist!" He growled. "I won't accept such a lame apology."

The said man raised an eyebrow and felt his lips twitch in annoyance.

"What?"

"You should get on your knees and beg for it."

"Beg…you say?"

He punched Izaya hard on the cheek, rolling his shoulders in satisfaction when then smaller man flew back against an occupied table, it's occupants stood up hastily to find a safer spot.

Izaya winced and rubbed a thumb over his aching jaw, scowling at the blonde man in anger and shame.

"How _dare _you hit me?"

The blonde grinned. "Because I can."

Izaya was at a lost of words, never had he been defied before, not to mention punched.

"You…do you even know who I am?"

"No. And frankly, I don't give a damn." The man shrugged.

The people around them were starting to stare in interest and inched away to prevent themselves from getting involved. A few even whistled when Izaya pulled out a switchblade from his expensive leather pants and pointed the tip at the blonde.

"You'll regret this, bastard." He snarled, not liking how this was going at all.

The man laughed and tilted his chin towards Izaya as if daring him to continue, "Bring it on, you stuck up flea."

His eyes widened in surprise at the horrible pet name. Tensing his shoulders, Izaya sprung forwards to give the man a piece of his mind. That is, until a large hand came between them, effectively removing the switchblade from his grip professionally.

"No fighting allowed." A deep voice rumbled. He had a heavy accent to his Japanese.

They found themselves staring at an even taller figure who looked like a foreigner with his dark skin tone.

"Simon." The blonde greeted the newcomer with a strained nod, reluctantly stuffing his hands into his pocket as a sign of peace.

If looks could kill, everyone within a foot of Izaya would've dropped dead by now. He wasn't one to back down but the size of this foreign dude was enough to make him think twice about lashing out again.

Simon was the nightclub's Russian bouncer. His immense strength and size made him one of the most fearful people in Japan. Despite his appearance though, he absolutely hated violence and would often be found giving intimidating lectures to young hoodlums.

"Fighting no solve anything. Buy a drink, alcohol good." He said in a rehearsed tone.

The blonde clicked his tongue once and turned to the bar, his anger suddenly subdued.

Izaya continued to glare daggers in the man's back, snatching his switchblade rudely from Simon's hand before exiting the bar without bothering to tell his fan girls bye. He had lost the mood to drink entirely.

A limousine was already waiting for him outside. He didn't even offer his chauffeur a greeting, straight away directing the man to drive him back home with an ugly scowl on his face.

Tonight was definitely not his night.

* * *

"Izaya! What happened to you!" His mother exclaimed the moment he walked into the ornate living room.

His father was away on a business trip, again, leaving both his wife and only son in the enormous mansion they lived in.

Two of their maids bowed and excused themselves after offering their young master some midnight refreshments which he brushed off with a flick of his uninjured wrist.

"A fight at the club, mother."

He allowed her to lightly press her petite fingers to the bruise on his cheek to examine it.

"The bastard knocked into me and sprained my wrist." He explained quietly.

She sighed and called for another maid that was on standby just a few feet away, "Please bandage him up."

"Yes, my lady."

As Izaya and the said maid were on their way up the gold plated spiral staircase, his mother suddenly said just loud enough for him to hear, "Izaya dear, I've hired a new personal bodyguard for you. Please don't force him to resign like you did the last."

* * *

I actually had my eyes on this prompt for awhile but I wasn't really sure whether I should've taken it since I barely have time to work on my other fics now due to my incoming final exams (as I might've mentioned before) D;

An idea for the ending hit me all of a sudden...and so I started :X


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here's Chapter 2! I'm thinking I should have something to munch on now ._. -rolls off-**

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**Blame It All On Fate!**

**Chapter Two **

A knock on the door brought him out of his sleep. He stretched a little before calling out for the maid to enter his room.

"Come in."

She went in quietly and wished Izaya a good morning, leaving a pile of fresh handpicked clothing by Izaya himself on the edge of his bed for him to change into.

"Would the young master like to dress himself today?" She blushed a little after asking that. Izaya could dress himself up perfectly well but being Izaya, he loved to tease his maids at every given chance.

He didn't really feel quite up to it this morning though, there was something that seemed to be bugging him. He gave her a smirk nevertheless and said, "Do you want to help me?" chuckling at the look she shot him and excused her soon after.

Sleep was still clouding his mind from staying up most of the night. That offending blonde that he met at the club kept invading his thoughts. He could still remember how it felt like to be punched by him – that was the first time he had ever been hit in his life, and he just could not get over it.

Revenge was needed here, he concluded. No one could get away with defying Orihara Izaya. Lengthy mastermind plots filled his complex mind as he slowly dressed himself, trying his hardest not to aggravate his still aching wrist.

Once his shirt and pants were on right, he shrugged on a favorite fur trimmed long coat of his on, thoroughly scanning himself in the mirror until he was satisfied with his appearance. The coat clung to his slender form with an air of elegance, further accentuated by the classy dirty brown fur lining on it. To Izaya, fashion was among some of his most important priorities. First being image and second being status.

After doing a small twirl to check the back of his coat, Izaya picked up his branded wallet and state of the art cell phone to casually tuck them in a coat pocket before leaving the room, all the while keeping usage of his right hand to a minimal.

He frowned as he made his way down the pearly white and gold spiral staircase to the dining hall where breakfast awaited; there were voices echoing from said hall. That was strange, his mother rarely chatted with the servants.

"A guest maybe…?" He muttered to himself.

"Thank you for accepting the job." That voice belonged to his mother. "I've heard many fine stories about your strength."

Izaya pressed his back against the wall just beside the entrance to the hall. His father had always told him that eavesdropping was bad, but that never stopped him from doing so to get extra information one would have a hard time getting otherwise.

"I thank **you **for the offer, my lady. I never expected to have the Orihara family call for my services."

Izaya raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He's heard that voice before.

"A friend of mine recommended you. I must warn you in advance tough, Izaya can be a little…hard to handle at times."

Izaya had to hold back a laugh at that. Hard to handle indeed. He turned to take the tiniest peek he could without them noticing him. The man stood in front of his mother who was seated on the left of the master's seat. He had painfully familiar blonde hair and was dressed in the customary bodyguard outfit, a pair of dark sunglasses covering his eyes gave him a look of professionalism.

The man chuckled and said, "I'm pretty sure I can handle him. Spoiled brats have never been much of a problem for me."

"Oh, you've not met my son yet. He –"

Izaya decided to step in the room just then. If this guy was going to be the new bodyguard his mother had talked about, then he should learn about his new master by himself.

"Good morning, mother." Izaya said as he walked with an air of confidence towards the long dining table, taking his place on the right of the master of the house's seat just beside the standing blonde whom he hadn't even spared a glance at.

Before he could motion for the maids to bring him his breakfast, the man beside him grabbed the top of the ornate chair Izaya was seated in and turned it around forcefully, causing everyone in the hall to freeze in shock, Izaya included as he stared up into those dark shades questioningly.

"What are you doing, Shizuo-san?" Mrs. Orihara exclaimed, fearing for her son all of a sudden.

Shizuo did not answer, he merely returned the man's stare, fingers digging into the wood of the chair in growing anger as he realized just who exactly his new master was.

"Orihara…san." He growled, mentally cursing the gods for this twist of fate.

"Is something the matter, Shizuo-san?" the lady was now standing, ready to call for security if something were to go amiss.

Shizuo considered the question for a moment before deciding to allow the 22 year old to do the explaining, hands moving up to remove the dark shades from his eyes, revealing his face to the now stunned Izaya.

* * *

It was now official. Heiwajima Shizuo was to be the personal bodyguard of Orihara Izaya, and both the men were far from pleased with the arrangement of things.

"I don't care about the contents of the contract you fucking signed. I just want you to stay the hell away from me." Izaya growled, feeling less than comfortable about their proximity from each other; his mother had called this a compulsory get-to-know-each-other session.

The corner of Shizuo's lips twitched a little at the tone of Izaya's voice. He was beginning to regret ever coming here in the first place.

"As much as I want to, I don't break promises nor contracts for that matter, and this one said that I can't ever leave your side aside during your private moments."

"Well, I don't give a damn!"

The young Orihara shot up and gave him the most intimidating glare he could muster, which obviously had no effect on the blonde.

"A job's a job and I'll be your bodyguard until the year's up, that's when the contract ends."

Izaya huffed and stormed out of the living room, ignoring his mother's shocked expression as he passed her, and made his way to his room upstairs, a frown pulling at his lips.

"Trust mom to find me another dumb dog…" He muttered, face hitting the soft pillow as he landed face first into his king sized bed.

Finally, he heaved a heavy sigh and shifted a little to reach for the drawer beside his bed. The first layer contained only a black book and a pen, both of which he took out and started writing the day's events in with a surprisingly neat handwriting.

"…and so I get a new pet _dog_, one that I'm gonna make suffer for a whole year for punching me in the face…" He voiced out the words as he wrote them.

It wasn't long before he was done since he only had Shizuo to write about for now.

A knock on the door startled him a little – no one ever dared to disturb him when he was in his room.

He merely glared at the wooden piece of wood, not bothering to answer.

"It's almost time for your class."

_Right, his university classes._

"Go away, dog. And call me master."

He could almost smell the anger radiating off the other male behind the door.

"Your mother would not be pleased if you missed your class just to stay in bed."

"My mother doesn't score high distinctions in every subject she takes. _Master,_ if you will."

"I'm being paid to look after your skinny little ass, not to be your slave."

Izaya snorted.

"The girls love my ass."

Was that a sigh he heard on the other end? Score!

"Alright, Izaya. You win. Just get going before I call your father."

And so he did, but only after screwing up his face childishly and opening the door fast enough to have it smack Shizuo in the face.

"My dad's a whore who's in Thailand getting shagged by random dudes as we speak."

"…what?"

* * *

Shizuo's transfer into the prestigious university was a quiet affair, as quiet as every other transfer in fact. The Orihara family had taken care of all the paperwork and all he had to do was step out of the car to open the door for his master and just not getting back in after.

Izaya's reaction was pretty much expected.

"I can't believe this."

Shizuo felt like saying that it really didn't make a difference, but the other would have probably turn a deaf ear to him with how he was practically glaring daggers at the piece of paper in his hands - Shizuo's new schedule to be exact.

"An ape like you even making it in…what the heck did that woman _do_?" Izaya mumbled to himself, conveniently loud enough for Shizuo and everyone within 4 feet of them to hear.

It didn't take long to click, only a few seconds really.

"Fuck."

The subjects on the list were the _same_ ones he was taking, and they were all taking place in the _same _lecture rooms and _same _time period as his.

"Call it karma."

The punch never reached its intended spot.

"You're quick, but not quite enough…rather weak too." Shizuo commented casually.

"How dare you speak to me that way." Izaya growled, his hand still caught between Shizuo's grip. "I'm your-"

"_Course mate_as of today, and I get to treat you like one while we're here; your mother's orders."

Izaya almost threw a mini tantrum then, just almost.

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Phew! I wrote half of this last December so I only had another half to finish up |3 Hope it's okay~


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